


Ghost Candles Guide Me Home

by Pollys_hymnia



Series: Elrond's Encyclopedia of Cryptozoology [9]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad middle earth cryptids, Crack, I wrote this fic for like 3 people, It's not canon, M/M, What am I doing, and caranthir is swamp thing, and excellent middle earth cryptids, did i mention crack, how do i explain this, only crack, references to Pete the Bog, references to prior Caranthir Swamp Thing and Egalmothman fics, references to the fall of gondolin, seriously what is this, that's for sure, there is no Feanor but there is a Will-o'-the-wisp, um ok so egalmoth is mothman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollys_hymnia/pseuds/Pollys_hymnia
Summary: Egalmothman flees the fall of Gondolin.  He takes refuge in a swamp and makes an unexpected friend.
Relationships: Swamp Thing Caranthir/Egalmothman
Series: Elrond's Encyclopedia of Cryptozoology [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1292648
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	Ghost Candles Guide Me Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chokingonwhys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chokingonwhys/gifts).



He had been flying so long, there was no telling how far he had traveled. The days and nights blurred together into the shapeless masses of the clouds he had traversed. As long as he kept going, as long as he could watch the lands pass by mile by mile, he wouldn’t have to think—wouldn’t have to remember.

But the fires were inescapable.

And the cries of the dying, wounded, captured. The clash of swords and the crash of stone on stone crumbling. Gondolin had fallen. 

Egalmothman had escaped, maybe, in the hope of bringing help—but he knew the city was beyond any aid now and was utterly lost. 

But still the hope, and the horror, fueled him.

Yes, he had seen the light of the trees and been nurtured in the undying lands. He was strong and determined, but he could not keep going forever.

His wings ached, and his eyes burned as the cold air rushed past him. Without meaning to, Egalmoth slowly and gradually descended toward the earth.

Though he was already only half awake, still it seemed as though he drifted into a dream.

He glided quietly on the gentle winds, down, down. Below him a faint light flickered. It was warm, a comforting yellow-orange, like the fire of a hearth—or a lantern. He realized all of a sudden just how chilled he was, from wing to bone. All heat had long since been lost. 

Thoughtlessly, he began to fly toward that Light. He wanted nothing more than the comfort of fire and sleep. 

Time stalled, and with the soft flutter of delicate wings he came to rest. 

In a swamp.

The light had long since flickered, faded, and failed. The cold, murky water was a rude awakening. Egalmothman was startled out of his stupor and caught himself before totally submerging into the scummy pool of livid weed.

However, he was simply _too tired_. Once he found a patch of relatively solid earth he leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the darkness take him.

Eyes were the first thing he saw upon waking. They were grey eyes, but somehow tinged with a deep, living green of the same color as the water that surrounded him. The next thing he noticed was hair. The—being—before him had long, glossy blue-black hair. The way it both absorbed the sunlight and reflected back only a small glimmer was altogether mesmerizing. But beyond that, he wasn’t sure what manner of creature this was that now watched him.

His skin, if he had any? Seemed to be covered in the very weeds of the swamp so closely that it was unclear where they ended at the creature began. He was clearly man-shaped, and for whatever else he was, he _was_ elegant. Almost lordly. And, perhaps concerned? 

At last, Egalmoth found his voice, though he spoke haltingly in the common Sindarin, “Who are you?” he asked, curiosity overriding his manners.

The figure before him grunted and gurgled, but amidst the rumble Egalmothman thought he could discern the words, “I am the Dark One.”

Egalmothman blinked. Was this a servant of the enemy? His guard was suddenly raised, though he could sense no evil or deception, “Whom do you serve?”

“No one,” the creature intoned.

“I am Egalmoth of Gondolin.”

The creature did not respond beyond nodding with his head behind him. He began to walk in the same direction at a slow, lumbering pace. Egalmothman was perplexed, but followed nevertheless.

Whatever Egalmoth was expecting to find as he followed the Dark One, it was not a home cooked meal and a cozy looking—mud hut? The creature had evidently brought him to his home.

As hungry as Egalmoth was, the meal of unidentifiable gruel and mishmash of some sort of kelp and possibly insects was more than welcome. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, and the food was warm.

The Dark One did not speak as they shared the meal, and Egalmoth could not find any words that were appropriate for such a situation. If there were any.

However, it was almost charming how the Dark One gathered up the empty bowls and placed them aside to be washed later. He threw a clump of peat onto the small fire at the center of the hut and the flames leapt up hungrily to receive it. The light was familiar to Egalmoth now. It was a warm yellow-orange and very lamp-like. It reminded him of home. 

He wondered, now, how long he could stay here.

He was tired of running.


End file.
